A Woman’s Beauty ©
By Michael Casey
A woman’s beauty has many seasons too, the first smile that floors any man, the kind word that heals any hurt, the tears that break any heart. The touch that offers sympathy, the consoling hug. The softness that brings hope to all of us. Softness is strength. All kinds of graces that are like pearls throw before swine, swine being men in the main.
A woman loves from her heart, a man tends to love from his loins until he is educated by the love of a good woman. Women don’t battle and try to win all the time, tender words are given to children, and men are just children who pretend they are all grown up. Words and curses are used and it’s the women who are the peacemakers, when all the wars are over its women who are left to bring the family together.
Family is woman, the home the hearth is woman, men are out working and the mother glues the family together while the men are at work. Times changed but still its mum and the kids, they are the family, dad is out working up to 16hours a day, at least my dad was. When dad is off work for the weekend then the family is full and complete, laughter rings out and when the ice cream van is heard in the street dad sends us out to get some ice creams. TV shows are watched together, kids snuggle up to dad to rest their head on his fat belly, dad’s Winnie The Pooh like belly.
As kids it’s the mother who teaches the children their first prayers, it’s the mother who spread the Faith, but why is it that only men are the priests? A mother encourages and sooths, a dad gives the pocket money out at the weekend so you can go to the Grove Cinema. On a Sunday there is cake and tea, dad goes to the pub and comes home with cheese and onion crisps in his pockets. Warm memories, memories that make up Family, then one Saturday night in May , mum is gone. Mum is dead, the priest comes to the house in the early hours returning with brother and sister, dad cries it finally hits him, his wife of nearly 50years is gone. Dad said mom had all the Graces, “She was as strong as a horse” which is high praise coming from a blacksmith.
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My dad was a blacksmith, I am a wordsmith
By Michael Casey
A woman’s beauty has many seasons too, the first smile that floors any man, the kind word that heals any hurt, the tears that break any heart. The touch that offers sympathy, the consoling hug. The softness that brings hope to all of us. Softness is strength. All kinds of graces that are like pearls throw before swine, swine being men in the main.
A woman loves from her heart, a man tends to love from his loins until he is educated by the love of a good woman. Women don’t battle and try to win all the time, tender words are given to children, and men are just children who pretend they are all grown up. Words and curses are used and it’s the women who are the peacemakers, when all the wars are over its women who are left to bring the family together.
Family is woman, the home the hearth is woman, men are out working and the mother glues the family together while the men are at work. Times changed but still its mum and the kids, they are the family, dad is out working up to 16hours a day, at least my dad was. When dad is off work for the weekend then the family is full and complete, laughter rings out and when the ice cream van is heard in the street dad sends us out to get some ice creams. TV shows are watched together, kids snuggle up to dad to rest their head on his fat belly, dad’s Winnie The Pooh like belly.
As kids it’s the mother who teaches the children their first prayers, it’s the mother who spread the Faith, but why is it that only men are the priests? A mother encourages and sooths, a dad gives the pocket money out at the weekend so you can go to the Grove Cinema. On a Sunday there is cake and tea, dad goes to the pub and comes home with cheese and onion crisps in his pockets. Warm memories, memories that make up Family, then one Saturday night in May , mum is gone. Mum is dead, the priest comes to the house in the early hours returning with brother and sister, dad cries it finally hits him, his wife of nearly 50years is gone. Dad said mom had all the Graces, “She was as strong as a horse” which is high praise coming from a blacksmith.
******************
My dad was a blacksmith, I am a wordsmith
You can now buy my 5 books on Amazon Kindle, USA, UK or Germany and France too
The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker (c)
Essays and Plays (c)
MichaelCasey'sBlogs2011 (c)
Shoplife (c)
300 and Not OUT (c) is my new collection of stories/blogs now on Amazon Kindle
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